Chapter 12 #2
She did as he instructed, making sure to take her time.
Her fingers were stiff and shaky as she removed the simple stays that tied in front and the wool gown, both of which she’d borrowed from Mary, grateful for the way it untied at the sides to lift over her head.
She couldn’t have done it by herself otherwise, and she didn’t think she could take the feel of his fingers on her right now.
She was ready to jump out of her skin. And it wasn’t just the prospect of getting in the water that was putting her on edge.
It was Lachlan.
Something new and poignant had sprung up between them. An ease, a familiarity … an intimacy that had filled her with a deep sense of contentment. By giving her freedom, he’d changed everything. Turning from jailer to suitor in the bat of an eye. Opening up a world of possibilities.
He cleared his throat impatiently. Realizing he was going to come looking for her if she delayed any longer, she stepped out from behind her impromptu dressing chamber.
His brow lifted when he saw her.
She glanced down at the trews and linen shirt that she’d worn under her gown, relieved to see that she was decent. Mostly. “Murdoch borrowed it from your squire,” she explained.
His gaze traveled down the length of her, lingering at her breasts stretching against the tight linen, her hips in the wool trews, to her naked calves and the tips of her bare toes.
She saw the heat in his gaze for an instant, before he doused it with a chuckle.
“Those clothes don’t look quite the same on you. ”
A flush rose to her cheeks at the obvious admiration in his voice.
Admiration that she returned wholeheartedly.
He’d removed his shirt and boots and wore only his trews, which hung low on his hips, emphasizing the hard lines of his impressively muscled stomach.
A warm, sultry feeling came over her just looking at him.
She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the sight of his naked chest. The vast array of finely sculpted muscle.
The strength and overwhelming masculinity. The sheer beauty of his form.
Realizing that she’d been staring, she shifted her gaze to the loch. “It looks cold,” she said, rubbing her arms. “Perhaps we should wait a little while. Until it warms up a bit.”
“It’s one of the hottest days of the year, the water will be as tepid as a bath,” he said patiently. “It will be fine.” He offered her his hand. “Come now, lass. No more delays.”
His voice was adamant but surprisingly gentle.
She could try, but she knew in the end he would not be gainsaid.
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the water’s edge.
Her feet felt weighed down with lead, each step on the rocky dirt path a battle against the overwhelming urge to turn and run.
Sensing her building trepidation, he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.
Too soon, they reached the soft muddy bank. Not letting go of her hand, he took a few steps into the water and turned around to face her. “Breathe, lass,” he said softly. “One step at a time.”
She shook her head, the breath stuck in her throat. She couldn’t. Fear had taken hold. It was just as she’d described before. The panic had wrapped itself around her like a vise. “I d-d-on’t think I can do this,” she stuttered, looking at him wildly.
“The Holyrood hellion admitting defeat? Is this the same girl who once scaled parapets?” he teased. “What would your friends at court say?”
She scowled at his attempt to prick her pride. “I know very well what you are doing. It won’t work.”
He shrugged none too innocently. The look on his face was so out of character, she nearly laughed. Nearly. Until she looked down at the water looming only inches from her feet.
“Don’t look at the water. Look at me.”
She did as he directed, gazing deep into the steady strength of his piercing blue eyes. God, he was incredible. So handsome that he made her insides flip.
The distraction worked. Her pulse slowed, and the tightness constricting her chest released a little. Clasping both her hands, he coaxed her gently into the loch.
At the first touch of the cool water on her toes, she gasped, pulling back instinctively.
He murmured soothing words in lilting Erse, the confidence in his gaze and voice giving her much needed courage.
She shivered as they waded waist deep into the water. Her skin prickled, the tiny hairs on her arms standing straight up. Chilled not from the water, which was pleasantly cool, but from the fear surging through her veins.
He sensed her distress and brought her closer against his chest, wrapping her firmly in his arms and allowing the heat of his body to take the chill from her skin.
“You are doing beautifully, my sweet.”
It didn’t feel like it; she felt like a quivering mess. But she had made it this far.
“I’m just going to lower you a bit more into the water. Are you ready?”
“Isn’t this deep enough?” Her voice quivered noticeably.
“We won’t go any deeper, but you can’t learn to swim standing like this. My arms will be around you the entire time, all right?”
She nodded, and he slowly lowered them into the water, cradling her against him, until he was on his knees and the water lapped around her shoulders.
He’d positioned her so that he held her by her waist and chest and her feet floated out to the side.
She fought the nausea as the memories took hold, of the suffocating darkness, of the water filling her nose and mouth.
She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here.
Panic erupted, and she flailed wildly, trying to stand up. But his arms held her close.
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“Shhh …” he said softly. “I have you. You are perfectly safe.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. He didn’t understand. Look at him—he was a rock. He’d probably never felt a moment of fear in his life. This was so humiliating. She didn’t want him to see her like this.
She buried her face against his warm neck and clasped his broad shoulders, her entire body shaking, his solid strength an iron tether to hold on to.
He simply held her, easing her panic with the soft caress of his hand on her back.
His hand slid down her side to her hips.
To her bottom. And achingly close to between her legs.
His touch was feather soft and deftly arousing.
She stopped shaking. He stroked her until her body softened and the water no longer felt like a pool of lead, but lighter and freer—like a cloud.
Until the panic receded and she couldn’t think of anything but his hands on her skin.
They were so close, his mouth was only inches from hers. She was achingly aware of her breasts plastered against his chest. The drenched fabric of her shirt was an insignificant barrier to the wide expanse of powerful muscle.
There was nothing decent about her garments now. Nothing of her shape was hidden from his view. And though he was taking pains not to make her self-conscious, she knew he was very aware of it as well.
“Is that better?” he murmured against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver again.
She wanted nothing more than to dissolve against him. Her body felt warm and languid, but also aroused and aching for his touch. Which was exactly what he’d intended. She eyed him. The rogue. But there was some consolation. If the strain on his face was any indication, he was not unaffected.
“Yes,” she answered. “It is better. Your teaching method is somewhat unconventional, but effective.” She shifted against him, not surprised to feel the hard length of his erection nudging her bottom. Good, he was just as aroused as she. “And dangerous.”
His fingers trailed down the curve of her spine. A teasing stroke when she wanted pressure. “Aye,” he admitted. “Very dangerous.”
Realizing she’d best put an end to this perilous game, she lifted her gaze back to his. “What’s next?”
The passion still burned in his gaze. A simmering threat or a promise, she didn’t know.
“The next part you must do on your own. I want you to dip your chin in the water, up to your nose, keeping your mouth closed. You will still be able to breathe through your nose. Like this.” He demonstrated.
Her eyes widened. She wanted to refuse, but he was right: She would never learn to swim and always be vulnerable if she kept allowing fear to win.
Which, of course, was easier said than done. She tried three times, but each time the water started to close over her mouth, her head seemed to jerk up of its own volition.
He held her hands, murmuring little encouragements, but it didn’t help.
She looked at him hopelessly. “It’s no use. I can’t do it.”
He tipped her chin with his finger so that he was looking right into her eyes. “Your fear will not go away in one day, lass. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve already made great progress.”
“You’re not disappointed in me?” She bit her lip. “I know you’re busy, and I haven’t proved a very apt student.”
A lazy smile curved his wide, sensual mouth. A mouth that teased and spoke of so many unknown pleasures. “Rather the opposite. I look forward to more lessons. I can’t imagine a more”—he slid his hand down the curve of her hip—“delightful pupil.”
Flora’s cheeks warmed. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Every minute,” he admitted unabashedly.
“Would you like to try one more time?” His mouth moved just a fraction of an inch closer.
She felt the warm spice of his breath on her cheek.
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Her pulse spiked, but not with fear. Every nerve ending was ragged with anticipation.
She would agree to anything, if only he would kiss her.
“What did you have in mind?” she breathed.
“Another wee distraction.”
His dark voice seeped into her bones. She shivered as his hand slid achingly close to her breast. He could reach out and stroke her with his thumb.